Chapter 14: Three Souls and White Bones (Part 6)
In a room located in a separate building of the homestay, the owner held three sticks of incense between his fingers, bowing in worship before a blank photograph.
He bowed three times in succession before planting the incense into the burner.
“Peace in the present life. Peace in the present life,” he chanted silently.
His eyes, framed by a web of fine wrinkles, snapped open. A sharp, shrewd glint cut through the cloudiness of his gaze as he looked at the photo with a mixture of triumph and ruthlessness.
“You couldn’t deal with me when you were alive; what can a dead piece of trash do now?”
Seeing that the other two were thoroughly spooked, Jiang Si had them sit down while he scrolled through his phone, looking for something.
Wang Zhao peeked at the screen and noticed it was a music app. “Are you going to play the Great Compassion Mantra or the Tao Te Ching? Will that stuff actually work?”
To his surprise, what burst from the speaker was a loud, resonant singing voice, filling the room with a powerful, clanging rhythm.
Two humans and two ghosts fell silent simultaneously.
“…”
They never expected it to be a “Red Song”—a patriotic revolutionary anthem.
An indescribable surge of heroic spirit welled up from the bottom of their hearts. A courage and strength engraved into their very marrow seemed to awaken. It felt as if, under the influence of this song, all timidity and cowardice became insignificant, not even worth mentioning.
Jiang Si spoke as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Trust in the Party, trust in the people. Listening to this is great—it makes you invulnerable to all evil!”
“Damn.”
After looping the song a few times, Director Zhang slapped his thigh in excitement, fully agreeing. “You’re right! All those ox-ghosts and snake-spirits are just paper tigers. We of the proletariat must fight them to the end!”
As he spoke, he pulled out his phone and passionately punched in three digits: 1, 1, 0.
Jiang Si, quick of eye and hand, snatched the phone away. “Director Zhang, we don’t have evidence. It’s just wallpaper covered in talismans. The owner can easily argue he did it for peace of mind. It doesn’t necessarily prove a crime was committed.”
“Then what do we do?”
Jiang Si hooked his finger, signaling the two to lean in, and smiled. “We beat him at his own game. Since the owner thinks we believe the matter is resolved, we’ll play along. We’ll call the police once we find hard evidence.”
“Where are we going to find that?” Wang Zhao felt like his brain couldn’t keep up; he was completely lost.
“On the mountain, of course.”
As Jiang Si spoke, he looked outside. The rain was still falling densely, every living thing swaying in the storm.
Blood and filth might be washed away by a heavy rain, but sometimes, the downpour washes away the soil used to cover up sins, allowing the souls buried deep underground to see the light of day once more.
To ensure the two men could return to their room peacefully—and not disturb his own rest—Jiang Si folded a paper Qilin (Chinese unicorn) for each of them using joss paper.
“Doesn’t a Qilin just bring children? It can ward off evil too?” Director Zhang voiced his doubts, yet his hands reached out faster than anyone else’s, terrified Jiang Si might change his mind.
“The Qilin is a symbol of auspiciousness; it does more than just deliver babies,” Jiang Si explained.
He hadn’t done any preparation, so the hand-folded Qilins were a bit rough, possessing only the general shape. But it was enough. Seeing the two men bowing their heads to admire the paper figures repeatedly, he couldn’t help but shoo them away.
“You guys go back first. Whatever happens, we have to wait for the rain to stop.”
“Cough… well,” Director Zhang rubbed his nose. Having taken the gift, he felt a bit sheepish and muttered, “Sorry about the trouble these past two days.”
“Mn.”
Wang Zhao couldn’t stand seeing a grown man acting so coy.
Not straightforward at all!
“Jiang, give me a call if anything happens. Director Zhang and I are heading out.”
With that, clutching the paper Qilin like a treasure, he pushed the door open aggressively. But the moment the door opened, he deflated like a popped balloon. He carefully poked his head out to survey the corridor, and only after confirming everything was normal did he step out.
He even turned back to call out, “Let’s go, Director Zhang!”
“Eh, coming.” Director Zhang looked back three times with every step, reluctantly leaving Jiang Si’s room.
Once the two living humans were gone, Xiao Fengxian, who had been playing dead, became active again.
Wary of the talismans on the wall, she kept her distance.
“Say, should I go scare that owner tonight? What if I can trick him into revealing something?”
Jiang Si’s eyes lit up, and he praised her, “Sister, you really live up to being a hundred-year-old ghost. You’re so smart!”
“Right? Hehe…” Xiao Fengxian twirled, her robes dancing in the wind, smiling without reservation.
“Then I’ll go give it a try tonight.”
She wasn’t the type to sit still anyway. Outside, the torrential rain turned the world dark, and the wild wind bent countless trees at the waist, making the indoors feel even more oppressive.
She sat here, walked there, and after a while, floated out to play.
Jiang Si had to restore the wall himself and called room service to clean up the debris.
By the time the sudden storm ceased, it was early the next morning.
When Jiang Si saw them again, Director Zhang was following behind Wang Zhao, looking sickly pale.
Clearly, neither of them had slept well.
After yesterday’s events, the two had formed a revolutionary friendship born of shared adversity, even squeezing into the same room to sleep.
Wang Zhao didn’t dare think about the surprised and weird looks his colleagues gave them when they saw him and the director coming out of the same room that morning.
“You two…”
“Director Zhang and I didn’t sleep together,” Wang Zhao explained reflexively.
“…”
Look at how scared they were; they were starting to spout nonsense.
Jiang Si stayed silent for a moment before waving them over to sit and eat.
Before they could speak, the homestay owner suddenly walked in. He scanned the dining room, then, as if locking onto a target, walked straight toward Jiang Si’s table.
He smiled as he walked. “Director Zhang, so you are here.”
Yesterday, he had looked like an ordinary middle-aged man. Now, in Director Zhang’s eyes, he looked no different from a Rakshasa demon. Even that smile seemed to carry malicious intent, as if he might pull a knife from behind his back at any moment.
Stiffly, afraid to even turn his head, Zhang felt someone kick his foot under the table. Jiang Si lowered his voice, “Bring out your acting skills.”
Director Zhang: “…”
He argued with his eyes: I’m a director, where would I get acting skills?!
Jiang Si ignored his silent protest. Did he take him for an amateur?
Directors have to take acting classes too.
As the owner’s voice drew nearer, Director Zhang forced out a sliver of a smile and exchanged pleasantries. “Yes, just came over for a bite.”
“Hahahaha… If there’s anything you want to eat, just tell the kitchen. We have a full stock of ingredients.”
Resting one hand on his waist and letting the other hang naturally by his side, the owner chuckled and instructed, “Don’t be polite. I just came over to ask—the rain was quite heavy yesterday, did you all rest well? If it’s too cold, we can add an extra quilt.”
“Not cold, not cold.”
Director Zhang smiled until his face felt stiff.
“Good, good.” The owner nodded. He accidentally made eye contact with Jiang Si, who was scrutinizing him. He looked slightly startled and immediately looked away.
Jiang Si nodded politely at him, watching as the owner walked away.
“Scared me to death.” Director Zhang patted his chest, heart still fluttering. “But the owner looks pretty normal. Is it possible he wasn’t the one who pasted the talismans?”
“Normal?” Jiang Si repeated. “I reckon he had nightmares all night, just like you two.”
He had seen it clearly just now; the owner’s eyes were bloodshot, looking as though he hadn’t slept a wink.
Xiao Fengxian had kept her word and gone to scare him.
As expected of her.
He’d have to give her extra offerings and incense when they got back!
Hearing that the film crew wanted to go up the mountain again, the owner seemed quite surprised. “It just rained; the road up the mountain is very slippery. Are you in such a rush?”
“We’ve already been delayed for a few days. Since Master Wei has resolved the issue, we have to resume work immediately. Every day delayed is money lost.”
Director Zhang sighed. mentally prepared this time, his acting was much more practiced than the first round.
The owner didn’t notice anything unusual. He nodded in agreement. “That is true. You all be careful on the road.”
Climbing back up to the cave along the same path as last time, Director Zhang told the cameraman to set down the equipment. He didn’t call for action, simply telling them to rest on the side.
Now, even the assistant director was confused, looking at Director Zhang, who had an unlit cigarette dangling from his mouth.
“Director, what are you doing? I thought we were filming? Shouldn’t we set up the cameras first?”
“You talk too much.” Director Zhang shot him a disgruntled glare and signaled Jiang Si, who hadn’t spoken yet.
“Huh?” The assistant director looked left and right but couldn’t figure out the trick.
It had only been a day, yet Director Zhang’s attitude had done a complete 180.
Originally, he had looked down on this curly-haired young man. Why was he now acting so obedient to him?
Did the sun rise from the west?
Or had he stumbled into a parallel universe?
Or maybe…
The assistant director froze, remembering a rumor he heard during breakfast.
They said the director and the screenwriter spent the whole night in one room discussing the script…
Could it be a “luminous script” scenario?
Unaware of the assistant director’s inner monologue, Jiang Si was manipulating the puppet in his hand, encouraging it gently, “Be a good boy. Try and see if you can still smell that scent from yesterday?”
Hai Di: “…”
He struggled to raise his arm, wanting to indicate that he wasn’t a dog and didn’t have that kind of ability.
But Jiang Si seemed to interpret his meaning differently and continued to coax him gently, “Believe in yourself. You’re much more capable than a dog.”
How was he supposed to respond to that?
If he refused, he was worse than a dog. If he agreed, he was validating Jiang Si’s words.
“A man cannot say he isn’t up to the task!” Jiang Si encouraged him.
Hai Di met his gaze with obsidian-like eyes. To be able to convey such intense emotional turbulence through an expressionless puppet—and make others feel it—one could only imagine how complex his mood was.
After a long while, he pointed toward a different small path.
“There.”
Director Zhang selected a few people to follow as usual. He hesitated when pointing to the producer. Since she was a woman, he worried she might be frightened if they saw something they shouldn’t. Thinking of this, he skipped over her and called Wang Zhao instead.
Including the assistant director, three people followed Jiang Si toward the small path.
The mountain, fresh from the rain, was covered in vegetation holding undried water droplets. Walking along the narrow path, their clothes brushed against the plants, leaving large wet patches.
The assistant director muttered a few complaints, only to realize that Director Zhang, usually known for his bad temper, hadn’t said a word. His lips were pressed tight as he constantly scanned the surroundings.
Subconsciously, the assistant director fell silent too.
The deeper they went, before Hai Di even pointed the way, they all smelled a foul stench.
It seemed to be the smell of rotting meat.
The sour, fishy reek was exceptionally strong amidst the scent of grass and trees. It not only assaulted the nose but made their eyes sting.
Jiang Si’s expression remained unchanged, but beside him, Director Zhang and Wang Zhao, realizing something, turned green in the face.
“Hurk—Gag—” The assistant director covered his mouth, bending over to dry heave. “You guys… hurk… what exactly are you doing?”
He had wanted to say earlier that this path looked familiar.
While filming on the mountain a while back, he and a few staff members couldn’t find a restroom and had relieved themselves behind some wild bushes. But there hadn’t been anything strange back then.
No one paid him any mind. Jiang Si, seeing the path end, prepared to push through the thigh-high grass to search, but Wang Zhao grabbed him. “Old Jiang! Don’t go over there.”
“It’s fine. We’re already here, I’ll take a look.” Jiang Si noticed that Hai Di hadn’t spoken for a long time. His sense of smell was likely too sensitive, and he probably couldn’t stand it anymore. Jiang Si tucked him into his chest, trying to shield him from the odor.
Catching a whiff of the familiar, faint incense scent, Hai Di’s uncontrollable headache suddenly eased significantly. He found a comfortable spot, clinging to Jiang Si’s clothes, and said in a muffled voice, “Be careful.”
The closer they got, the more obvious the smell became. Jiang Si picked up a stick and pushed aside the grass under the trees. The soil, washed by the heavy rain, showed signs of being disturbed. Beside it lay a wild hare that had been dead for a long time.
With the high summer temperatures, a dead rabbit would quickly be consumed by decomposition. In Jiang Si’s eyes, it was a blur of bloody flesh, with half of its white bones already exposed.
No wonder the smell is so strong, Jiang Si thought to himself.
Not minding the filth, he used the stick to flick the rabbit aside and thrust the wood into the loose soil. With a slight pry, a section of something black and fuzzy was revealed.
Beneath the matted black hair, one could faintly see white bone.
It was a human head.
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